


a message etched into his spine

by basgijr



Category: Dr. STONE (Anime), Dr. STONE (Manga)
Genre: (can you still be bros with the guy you tried to homoerotically assassinate or), And Senku Outs Tsukasa As A Furry ngl, Established Tsukasen, M/M, No Spoilers, Obnoxious Imagery, Oh Yeah There’s Bats, Pathetic fallacy, Soft Gore, The Focus Was On Senkuu Not Tsukasa So What I Say Goes, The Moments After Tsukasa “Killed” Senku, Trauma, ah yes. the two most important things to tsukasa that i randomly made up just now: shoes and a comb, anime compliant, bc tsukasa can’t differentiate emotional and physical pain, bereavement, can be read as romantic or platonic, emphasis on the word pathetic wtf is this pretentious bs, lolll i hope this entertains, lowk, lowk leaves on a high note, omg tsukasa is the little mermaid CONFIRMED, um... gay pining, with DOUBLE MEANING!!! now that’s sexc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24598081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basgijr/pseuds/basgijr
Summary: (title from when he died by lemon demon)this story follows tsukasa in the moments we don’t see him in canon, from just after his confrontation with kohaku to just before he meets up with yuzuriha and taiju.for all tsukasa knows, senku is dead. he is mourning. But most of all, he feels guilty, in a way that hits like a body blow.character study !!
Relationships: Ishigami Senkuu/Shishiou Tsukasa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	a message etched into his spine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> happy birthday echubo!! 
> 
> NOTE: this work is unbeta’d. any mistakes (and there probably are some) are all mine!

He'd been alone for a little while, before Taiju and Yuzuriha returned from S- 

From the burial.

After that interaction with the blond-haired native (-a vision of blonde hair, that unmistakably too small frame, the noise of medical machinery and cloying scent of sterilisation-) he finds a deep cave. And very carefully does not think.

Something squeals. Tsukasa looks up. Blinks. Hundreds of eyes blink back. 

In an instant, the ceiling dissolves in a writhing mass of black wings. It's like the rock itself is a molten. He ducks down as the bats hurriedly flee.

Right. First order of business. Nitric acid. Then, alcohol. Tsukasa already has small bottles on his person, a precaution for the ups and downs of everyday stone-age life. He collects as much nitric acid as possible, before pausing. How was he to obtain alcohol? True, he knew where there were berries and grapes tended to grow, but his Taiju and That Person had kept the specifics hidden, always conveniently been able to get away and fudge the details in Tsukasa's mind.

That left... either spending the extra time to teach himself, which wouldn't take long, but surely cripple advancements in establishing a new world order. No, Tsukasa thought. Perhaps, hm, it would be more efficient to find someone who already knew how to mass produce fermented products.

But before that. He'd need a measured amount of revival fluid for maybe one person. And he'd need guarantee that such a person would be able to provide the purpose Tsukasa needed.

Which meant he'd need to return to the-

To Senku's (and even after the deed, Tsukasa flinches at the mere mention of his name. How pathetic.) base of Science.

* * *

The rain is just begining to fade as Tsukasa staggers back to the base. Tsukasa's always had bad timing, but this just kind of makes him want to cry.

He stands there, leaning on his sword, breath coming quick, but not because of the physical strain of running through the mud. Dizzy, Tsukasa is hit with a sudden, overwhelmed feeling of mourning.

No. 

This is worse, grasping at his stomach and the intestines there with a wrench, twisting and incessantly trying to chip away his careful control.

The base appears almost utopic. The rain is still trickling down the roof, darkening the leaves of the trees and causing light to glint off of the structure, like a precious jewel. It threatens to blind him, but Tsukasa finds it impossible to look away. The misting remnants of the recent downpour give an ethereal dimension to the gap between inside the building and out. The air is wet, Tsukasa can taste it on his tongue. 

It tastes like blood. 

It tastes like the way of the world.

Inside he knows there lies what he needs, but he can't help but stay frozen in this moment, the isolation yet undeniable warmth calling to him. It says, I am not sullied yet. Leave me to be untouched for a little while longer. 

He doesn't want to move. But every second must be utilised to its best capacity. For the sake of the new world order that needed to be brought about.

Tsukasa takes what he needs and feels like he has robbed a grave.

An object makes him stop, just as he is leaving. His hair is wild, frayed from its ties and mussed from his own nervous meddling. And sat to the side is a small but strong toothed comb, carved from wood. It looks so innocent, fragile, gazing back at Tsukasa, whose chest is heaving and hair is disheveled and whole composure now splinters, if for a moment. 

It's a strong sense of nostalgia that strikes him, like a punch to the face.

* * *

_In this memory, Tsukasa is stood in the river, desperately trying to run his fingers through knotted hair. He wets it, but this only seems to make it mad, stubbornly matting itself and refusing to untangle. A sound like frustration escapes his lips, and he sits down in the water, savouring the fast temperature change as a welcome distraction._

_The outdoors seems like the only place that was ever made for him and his 200cm frame._

_Unlike the public baths at home, lakes like this were never cramped, or showed clear handmanship for people who were so different from himself. There's a sudden splash somewhere in the water, the vibrations strong, thrumming against Tsukasa's skin. A pause stretches out like a cat, between himself and the scientist body slinking through the water._

_He can't tread water, Tsukasa realises, watching this teenager try and walk bearing the weight of the lake._

_You look like you're struggling, he says, red eyes bright. His teeth are showing. He's smiling. Tsukasa already knows there's a fond look on his own face._

_Can't brush your mane, lion?_

_The scientist's body grows closer still to Tsukasa, so much he can feel the warmth of his little body. He's resting on Tsukasa's kneecaps, sat down beside Tsukasa with a hum._

_Tsukasa stays very, very still as a pale arm outstretches towards him, and pats his hair. Smoothes it down, tucks a lock behind his ear. He hears a chuckle as his body reflexively shivers under the attention. I have something for you that might help, the scientist says, confident._

_He reaches to his pocket and presents something to Tsukasa, pressing it into his hands. One hand remains on Tsukasa's shoulder like a brand, seeking stability. But it also feels like possession. Tsukasa will keep that thought to himself._

_The gift, he realises, is a comb._

* * *

The memory stings. He remembers drying off after that, laying down on the grass together and taking turns using the wooden comb to untangle their hair. 

Tsukasa very, very slowly sits down on the floor. With his hair that is starting to mat again, with a heart so pained with good memory, it's all he can do.

And the void when he shuts his eyes is a peace he shouldn't allow himself. 

He's cold. Damp, and alone. It threatens to swallow him whole. The darkness should unnerve him, make him uncomfortable, remind him of that prison of limited consciousness... But while it registers as a pressure, of sorts, Tsukasa doesn't feel panicked. Distressed, but not at the Dark. He feels distressed because he ended a life he had bonded to. A life that he... A life that he may have even loved.

Tsukasa has always been like this. He may not look like it, but he attaches to things with great strength. Even if he doesn't want to. He remembers being seven years old and hurting because someone stole his shoes from his locker. Yes, he wasn't hurt because of the theft, but because he loved them, despite them being old and nearly worn through.

And maybe it's not the same now, with Tsukasa being grown, and the beloved in question being a real-life human person than a pair of footwear-

In a way, he hasn't allowed himself to progress beyond that youth who was so rightly afraid to get attached, and still that happened, anyway.

He's been wounded again.

Tsukasa rises to his feet with a deep intake of breath. He takes the comb, the token of friendship and the makings of something else, because he's already proved himself a terrible person. What difference would this make? 

(Later-- much, much later, Tsukasa dares to allow himself to say the word. The name. 

"Senku." 

Hm, Senku. 

It feels clumsy somehow, on his tongue. His chest flutters.

He'll practice. For that day when they'll meet again.)

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to expand this More but then i realise i’d be rewriting the whole manga in au, so i thought I’d keep this a nice circular piece. i hope you liked it, and we can discuss more ideas for the darker possibilities of drst more in the future !!
> 
> yknow my brain process for writing this was 
> 
> 1) what does echu like? tsukasa  
> 2) what does echu not like? senku
> 
> therefore tsukasa gay pining while senku is ‘dead’ lolll 
> 
> HE DOESNT EVEN LET HIMSELF SAY SENKUS NAME,,, dramatic ass bitch smh
> 
> ........ tbh tho ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
> 
> ah to be bathing in the river with ur science bf who u would do anything for and you embrace together because the water is cold but your bodies are so tender and warm,


End file.
